Lenses
by TheAbominableToaster
Summary: A multi-chapter, Human!University!stuck AU! Including such fine ships as Sollux/Aradia, PB J, Sollux/Eridan, John/Vriska, Sollux/Dave, and more! Possible smut in the future, and, well, yeah! I warned you about bad summaries, bro. I told you dog.
1. Arrivederci, my love

**A.N: **Hi guys! Time for a multi-chapter! Hopefully I'm up to it. This chapter's kind of sad, be warned!

* * *

You name is **SOLLUX CAPTOR**, and you are **VISITING YOUR GIRLFRIEND.**

At least, that's what you thought you were doing.

"Aradia? Are you there?" you ask, turning the brassy keys in the lock, tiny tumblers sliding open with a satisfying click.

There wasn't any answer. The apartment, normally lit up and cosy, was dark, and the curtains were drawn, only tiny shafts of moonlight managing to break in.

"Aradia? Arad-" your voice grinds to a halt, words catching and fading on your lips as you switch on the light in the room.

Dark red stains cast shadows on the floor, rivulets flowing through the carpet, slowly making their way towards the door, towards your motionless form.

You can't breathe. You can't think. You can't speak.

All you can do is fall to your knees, a broken noise emitting from your throat, while the body of your girlfriend lies there in front of you on the floor.

If you had been paying attention, you would have noticed her phone lying next to the girl's body, the screen still bright and Pesterchum open, the final two words of a conversation poisoning the screen in vivid blue.

_Arrivederci, Megido._

"

Bleak clouds, the colour of dust, moved across the sky as though they were in no hurry to let the sun shine through. Everyone attending was dressed in dark colours, outward signs of shared grief, linking each one of these strangers together, although none of them really realized it.

The celebrant finished his speech that no-one had actually listened to, and stepped back, his head bowed and eyes cast to the floor, delicately avoiding your angered gaze. This man didn't know her at all, you think venomously, and he has the audacity to talk about her as though he did?

Before you can even take a step towards him, a hand on your shoulder cools the blood rushing through your veins, and you let out a breath you hadn't even realized you'd been holding.

You turn around to face the owner of the hand, who happens to be your best friend and occasional annoying idiot, Karkat Vantas. He shakes his head, ragged spikes of violently ginger hair falling across his face, and offers the closest thing he can to a comforting smile.

Hitching sobs catch your attention, so you face back around to the small throng of people gathered around the burial mound.

The first person you saw was Gamzee, a really, _really_ tall, gangly sort of fellow, with hair that looked as though it had been tossed into a blender. His expression - normally so peaceful thanks to the narcotics he regularly put into his system - was downcast, and he was muttering comforting words into the ear of his boyfriend, Tavros, who was crying onto his shoulder. Tavros, you remembered, had been a good friend of Aradia's. They'd played video games together for a lot longer than you had. He had prosthetic legs, which were currently hidden under conspicuously baggy black chino pants, and a fluffy little mohawk.

Next to those two, Jade - who had been Aradia's roommate - was pressing a handkerchief to her face, fighting to control the tears pooling in her eyes, which were covered by large, rounded glasses. Her geeky-looking brother, John, was standing next to her, and her arm was wrapped around his in a sign of comfort. There was a blonde girl and boy standing on the other side of Jade's brother. The girl looked somber and serious, but the boy was standing there looking as though he didn't even give a flying nubsucker about what was happening. He had a perfect poker face on, accentuated by the dark shades completely covering over his eyes.

For some reason, it made Sollux mad.

But now, Tavros had stopped crying, and was clearing his throat, as though he wanted to say a few words, as though they would actually make a difference.

"I- uh, hi," Tavros began awkwardly, his persistent stutter coming through. "Well… A-Aradia was a really, uh, good friend to me for a long t-time."

He looked up at Gamzee, and the taller man offered him a saccharine grin, which seemed to boost the confidence of the younger, so he continued on.

"We-we played Flarp together, and we hung out. She w-was nice to, uh, everyone, and she always had a smile. I-I'm going t-to miss you…" he said, breaking off before he could say her name into a fresh flood of tears, burying his head once more into Gamzee's shoulder.

Jade went next, talking about their years together as room-mates, and she had seemed on the verge of telling a funny story before Rose placed a silencing hand on her arm, and a mere shake of the blonde's head conveyed the message that it wasn't quite the time.

Finally, it was your turn, and you could suddenly feel everyone's gaze turn towards you, her boyfriend, the one who she'd loved and the one who had loved her beyond all description.

How could you convey, in just words, how you had felt about her, how you would treasure the experiences you two had had, how you would miss her until the end of your days?

Taking a deep breath, you step forward, and bend down to the headstone, placing a bunch of flowers he'd bought especially for her onto the freshly turned earth. Red roses were artfully twined around the stems of tiny sunflowers, her two favourite flowers, the ones that he brought her every time they saw each other.

And that would be the last time you would.

Choking back a sob, you step back to your place next to Karkat, as the celebrant says the final words before everyone moves away slowly, whispers of hushed conversation snatched up by the sudden wind that started to blow through the cemetery.

All too soon, you were the only one left, with tears forming in your eyes, and a silent piece of stone marking the place where your future lay stiffly, staring into a fathomless darkness.

The earth greets your knees with a hard shock that nearly sends you reeling onto your back, but your hands that are fisted into the grass keep you steady, as you turn your face to the sky and whisper;

_I'm sorry._

_I couldn't save you._

Your name is **SOLLUX CAPTOR**, and you will **NEVER FORGIVE.**

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**A.N: **Thank you for reading!


	2. And then, there were three

__**A.N: Chapter 2! This one's less sad, and we're moving on to the story!**

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Your name is **KARKAT VANTAS**, and you're **STILL WORRIED ABOUT YOUR FRIEND**.

"

"What do you mean, KK?" he asks, still unpacking his pathetically small amount of clothes into his standard-issue wardrobe.

"What I mean, dipshit, is that…" That what, exactly? Why are you so pissed off at the fact that Sollux still isn't better?

Silence fills the room again, until you flop onto the bed, weary springs creaking in protest at your sudden attack, and sigh exasperatedly, a habit which pops up often. You _do_ have a lot of trouble keeping your anger swept away under the metaphorical rug.

Even though you can't see him - you are looking up at the ceiling, after all - you can basically feel him rolling his eyes.

"Whatever. You are such a girl tho-sometimes," he says, his old lisp cropping up again on the last word. A muffled **whump** of falling material tells you he's just punched his overnight bag.

"Dude, it's just a lisp," you say, sitting up properly so you can look him in the eyes. "No need to beat yourself up over it. Or your bag." you add wryly, staring at the now sadly squashed luggage.

He mutters something almost unintelligible, but you can catch snippets of it nonetheless.

Sighing, you rake a hand through your hair (it's black, now. You really could never stand the ginger, or the countless jokes that went along with it), and the newly set up digital clock on your bedside table announces the time in blaring neon.

"Shit!" you yell suddenly, springing up so fast you swear the old bedframe nearly collapsed in your wake.

"I've got to run," you say, picking up your books and your laptop and racing out, the "see you later, fuckass!" offer of a goodbye falling upon deaf ears.

If you'd stayed just a little longer, maybe you would have seen him pick up the old photograph that still haunted him freshly. Maybe you would have seen him cry.

"

When you come back, a surprise is waiting for you, and it's sitting on the bed in the corner that nobody had noticed, unpacking it's stuff with a cool smirk on it's lips.

"Strider? What in the holy mother of fuck are you doing here?" you ask incredulously, your expression changing from a post-class stupor into a furious sneer.

"I live here. This dorm room is a triple, right?" he says, his shades rendering his eyes unfathomable, and you couldn't tell if he was being serious or if it was more of that ridiculous irony shit.

"Yeah, but not for the likes of you," you shoot back, folding your arms across your chest.

"Psht, whatever." he snorts, and you turn to put your stuff back down on your bed. You'll move it to the desk later when you actually start doing your homework.

"You know your room-mate was crying when I got here?" stops you, ice freezing in your veins.

"What?" you ask, turning back around to face the infuriating coolkid sitting on his bed, calm as you please.

"You heard me. Bawling like a baby deprived of its milk." You take a step towards, as some of your real temper starts to resurface.

Dave, obviously thinking you're not really serious, keeps going, the idiotic prick.

"What's his deal?" he asks, pulling out his laptop and opening it, starting to surf on the internet.

But you, slamming its lid back down hard enough to make the machine start to whine, is enough to get his attention.

"His problem? Weren't you there three years ago? Or were you so wrapped up in your blanket of fucking coolness that you didn't see his girlfriend being buried?" your voice is slowly raising, almost to the point of breaking as your anger surfaces, on an express train, headed straight for Dave motherfucking Strider.

"Are you that ignorant that you can't get it through that slimy morass you call a brain, if you were even fucking graced with one? He's still upset, you dickmuncher!" you keep yelling, and now your hands are locked on his shoulders, and you're shaking him back and forth.

It's all he can do to keep his moronic shades from sliding off of his nose.

"Calm down"! Strider says, raising his arms and lowering them in the universal sign for, well, calm down.

"Why in the fuck should I?" you yell, still incensed.

Strider's smirk reappears, and he points to the doorway. You let go of Strider's collar, and step away.

"Sheesh, KK," Sollux says, his laptop cradled in his arms, held as gently as an infant. "I didn't realise you were that desperate to get into his pants."

"Fuck you!" you said quickly, and both boys started to laugh.

It was faint, but you could have sworn you heard Strider mutter "You wish."

"

It was later on, and all three of the dorm-mates were seated on the new couch that Dave had brought in from his and his weird brother's apartment. It was bright red, and probably could have comfortably housed a couple of elephants if need be.

Each one of them was on their computer, a sign of friendship, or, at a stretch, bro-ship. Well, at the very least, an agreement to try not to be total dicks to one another.

You had squished yourself into the very corner of the couch, and you were in the middle of watching one of your (admittedly cheesy) rom-coms, which you were keeping hidden behind a Facebook page whenever someone tried to peek at what the hell you were doing, especially Dave. You knew that if he caught you watching any of this stuff for non-ironic purposes, he would never let you live it down.

Sollux was seated in the middle, his feet resting on the empty shell of his suitcase, deep in the midst of a C++ programming window. The kid was typing so furiously, sometimes he had to wait a few seconds for the screen to catch up with what he had been doing. You sigh and shake your head. Why did he even take computer coding at university anyway? He's probably better than all of the nubsucking idiots in his class _and_ the professor combined. He's apeshit bananas at computers, a skill that you had tried and failed at countless times, even to the result of once blowing up your hard drive. Literally.

You'd flunked IT in high school, needless to say.

Dave was talking to someone on Pesterchum, and was occasionally muttering such things as "You stupid Egderp", but in a way that wasn't insulting and sarcastic, like how he had been talking to you earlier. It was sort of… sentimental? In any case, his expression wasn't giving anything away anytime soon.

You shook your head, your earphones in danger of falling out, Sandra Bullock's slightly horse-like voice nearly silenced. _Equius would probably be getting off on this, _you think with a shudder. Equius was creepy enough, but his preoccupation with everything equine was just…

Okay, mind away from Equius and his gross habits.

You settle back into the cushions, and let the sublime storyline and acting of Sandra Bullock and Michael Caine bring a small smile to your face.

"

Your name is **KARKAT VANTAS**, and you **LOVE SHITTY ROM-COMS**.

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**A.N: **Thank you so much for reading!


	3. My insufferably lovable bro

**A.N**: Sorry if this chapter's a little short ^^ I hope you enjoy it anyhow!

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Your name is **DAVE** **STRIDER**, and you are **TALKING TO YOUR INSUFFERABLY GOOFY PAL**.

"

_Insufferable is one way of putting it, _says a furtive voice in your head, the uncool part of yourself that you keep locked up.

Resisting the urge to smile like a complete fool, you satisfy yourself with replying.

**- **ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 22:54 **-**

**EB: **sorry, my internet just died.

**TG: **sheesh egbert

**TG: **could it be that your absolute derpiness outweighed the entire world wide web

**EB: **hey!

**EB: **i was asking a serious question there. even if it was a little stupid

**TG: **why do you even trust the spidery bitch

**TG: **hey karkat was right

**TG: **spider bitch is a good name for her

**EB: **stop talking about my girlfriend like that! it's not cool.

**TG: **alright keep your shit unflipped

**TG: **look im deleting all the insults i had typed up earlier

**TG: **they're gone now

**TG: **only the undo button can save their sorry asses

**EB: **dave, I'm being serious!

**EB: **i don't get why you guys hate vriska so much.

**EB:** sure, she's done some bad stuff in the past.

**TG: **she put that gamzee kids boyfriend in a wheelchair

**EB: **…

**TG: **she terrorized most of our friends all through high school

**TG: **and im pretty sure shes the reason that solluxes girlfriend shuffled off the mortal coil

**EB: **dave, I don't mean to be rude, but that was really insensitive of you!

**EB: **and also, you don't know that for sure!

**EB: **i've got to go now.

**- **ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 23:13 **-**

**TG: **hang on

**- **ectoBiologist [EB] changed their mood to OFFLINE **-**

**TG: **shit

You closed your laptop just the tiniest bit harder than necessary. Ha, who are you kidding? You slammed it hard enough that the screen was in danger of snapping in two.

"You alright there?" Sollux asks awkwardly from his place in the middle of the couch, looking up from his coding for the first time in almost the whole night.

"Yeah," you say, but try as you might you can't keep the slight wobble from snaking into your voice. Dammit. Poker faces are so much easier to maintain over the internet.

"Right," he replies, sarcasm dripping from his tone. That shit was threatening to flood out the whole god-damned dorm if you didn't shut him up soon.

"So what's your deal?" he asks, obviously not buying your blank expression that you slapped on, a sort of mask as the turmoil caused by your… ahem…. friend, rages on in your mind.

You open your mouth, a smart and ironic retort at the ready, until Karkat resurfaces from his crappy movie, looking pretty pissed.

"Would you two both shut up?" he snaps, popping out his earbuds so that he can hear his own ranting clearly, the dim light from his computer screen highlighting the obvious regrowth clumsily hidden in his parting.

"I was until this douche over here," you jerk a thumb towards Sollux, glad for a vent to take out your inner anger on, " - butted his way into my business like a fucking papa deer, horns out and pointy as shit."

"Save your ironic bullshit for a later date, Strider, when someone who actually gives a flying fuck is listening," Karkat snapped, bristling.

"KK? What's got your panties in a bunch?" Sollux asks, mild amusement flitting across his face, the corner of his mouth tweaking upwards.

A beep from Karkat's computer signalling a new Pesterchum message and Karkat's irritated mutterings - something along the lines of "stupid high piece of shit clown" - that gave away the answer.

After a few moments of furious typing (Karkat seeming to forget about you and Sollux staring like idiots), he slams his computer shut just like you did, and literally flips his computer off of his lap and behind the couch.

He then gets up off the couch, pulling his hoodie from it's place shoved behind the cushions, and stomps out of the place, offering a gruff and quiet "I'm going out" as his goodbye as he slammed the door behind him.

"Does this happen a lot?" you ask, and Sollux only shrugs in reply.

Your name is **DAVE STRIDER**, and fuck, you are **CONFUSED**.

* * *

**A.N: **_I can't write Dave or John *ollies outie screaming YOLO into the sunset*_ Thank you for reading!


	4. Fog of a different name

**A.N: **Enjoy! :D

* * *

Your name is **GAMZEE MAKARA**, and life is **MOTHERFUCKIN** **MIRACLES**.

"

…Maybe due to the fact that you're high as cherry pie right now.

Your home-made bong sits on the coffee table dominating the tiny living room, a discarded bottle of Faygo being put to good use - at least in your opinion. It's still smoking slightly, so the room is heavy with the sweet scent of drugs.

You exhale, a cloud of the smoke lying low like fog around your eye level clearing away from the (relatively) clean air, and a lazy grin slowly reaches across your face.

A knock at the door raises you somewhat from your narcotic-induced stupor, and you make your way to the door, your hands somehow finding their way into your pants pockets before you even get there.

How should you know how that happened? It's all just one big mystery.

Shivering behind the door is your best bro Karkat, shaking the water out of his hair like a lollopy small sort of dog, and wearing his customary frown that hardly ever changed.

"Karbro," you say, your voice sort of croaky and husky, holding up your arms and expecting a hug that, again like usual, never came.

Karkat instead pushes into the apartment beside you, wiping his trainers on the tiny mat that you never remember to use.

"Hey Gam-," he stops short and starts coughing, having taken in a lungful of the heavy fog covering the small flat. "Jegus, can't you crack a fucking window or something?" he manages to splutter out, almost running across the room to crank the window open, heavily breathing in the fresh air like a person saved from drowning.

You smirk inwardly. Your Karbro had always been a terrible smoker, no matter how much he tried to hide it. Every time he tried, a coughing fit would ensue, much to the amusement of all of his slightly more… ahem…. _experienced _friends.

"So why did you invite me over here again?" he asks after a long while of him massaging his throat and muttering curses under his breath.

"You were sounding pretty motherfuckin pissed," you reply casually, leaning on a nearby counter and casually observing him from afar.

"So?" he asks, his voice rising up into a snappy sort of tone that you've learned to ignore over the years. He never really means it.

"So I all up and invited you here-" you start, but you're cut off by his all too audible grousing along the lines of "you invited me here to choke me with your pot smoke", so you wait for him to awkwardly fall silent before you keep going.

"'Cause I thought you might need someone to motherfuckin talk to."

You can physically hear Karkat's facepalm from across the room. "We were just talking on Pesterchum five minutes ago. Are you that far fucking gone that you-" he cuts off with an irritated sigh, and you can see him kneading his temples with short, stubby fingers.

"Nah, motherfucker," you say, gesturing sluggishly. "Only a couple of hits, I promise. 'Sides, Tavbro is coming over soon, and I wanna be able to remember it,"

"Oh, just fucking great," Karkat complains. "Because I so want to see you and your boyfriend getting it on."

A faint knock at the door signifies the presence of said boyfriend (and yes, you had been planning on some sloppy makeouts), and you make your way over to the door for the second time, opening it to reveal a smallish kid with a fluffy brown mohawk on his head and a shy grin adorning his face.

"Uh, hi there Gamzee," he said, his generally constant stutter not even showing up.

"Hey there my motherfuckin' Tavbro," you say, picking the kid up almost bridal-style and carrying him into the apartment, much to his embarrassment.

After putting him down on the couch, a sharp burst of techno beats from Karkat's phone breaks you out of the odd dreamlike stupor that being around Tavros always seems to put you in. It's like he has a whole different, miraculous world held in his eyes.

"What is it, douchenozzle?" Karkat says, sticking a hand into his pants pocket and sauntering towards the counter.

After a few moments of tinny metallic voices, he stops dead, and some of the colour drains from his face.

"I'm on my way," he says, hitting the little red _End Call _button before whoever had been on the other side had the chance to say anything else.

He looks at you both, worry captured in his eyes. "I've gotta run."

Karkat Vantas, master of poignant farewells.

He races out of the apartment without another word, slamming the door behind him.

"What's his, um, deal?" Tavros asks, looking at you, and you only shrug.

"Something that's none of my motherfuckin business." you casually reply.

"He looked really…" Here his speech faltered a bit, as he seemed to do a lot. "Worried."

You try to smile comfortingly, but your face hardly changes.

"Karbro would've all up and told me if it was my business to be knowing it," you explain, and Tavros smiles a bit, understanding your "logic".

"Well, you do know him better, than I do," he says, leaning his head on your shoulder, his hair tickling the side of your face.

"Exactly, little bro. So don't you motherfuckin get all worried, 'kay?"

He nods, and you place your hand over his, the lazy grin you always have holding so much more meaning.

Your name is **GAMZEE MAKARA**, and you have the **CUTEST BOYFRIEND A MOTHERFUCKER COULD EVER HAVE**.

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**A.N: **Sneaking in PB+J is how I do. Also, as always, thank you all for reading! You guys are my inspiration to keep doing what I do; writing!


	5. Park benches in the rain

**A.N: **I'm really sorry for publishing this chapter late! I've been in the process of moving house, so... yeah. Also I was lazy. Thank my friend for making me write it~! And, as always, enjoy!

* * *

Your name is **KARKAT** **VANTAS**, and you are **WALKING IN THE RAIN**.

"

It's not a glorious feeling in the least.

Your fleece hoodie is soaked through, and you're about ninety-nine percent sure it's beginning to melt off of your body.

"Cheap piece of shit," you mutter angrily, stopping momentarily to kick a pebble as hard as you can, water flying up in an arc from inside your shoes to match the flight of the rock.

Predictably, it goes flying into the back of someone's head, some unlucky bastard who doesn't seem to have an umbrella either.

They turn around, picking up the rock from the floor, looking around vacantly until their eyes fall on you.

"Karkat!" the person yells happily, running out from his relatively shady spot underneath a tree to tackle you with a hug that could've winded a football player.

As it were, you're pretty convinced that you might not breathe again.

"Fuck!" is the first thing you manage to wheeze out, doubled over and gasping.

John Egbert's boyish face hovers over you, his buck-toothed grin changed into concern. "Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry," he apologises, continuing to babble out his sorries until you hold up a hand to silence him. He takes your other arm and leads you over to a nearby bench. It's soaking wet too, but you're really not in a position to be complaining.

"It's… all good," you say, your voice quickly returning to it's normal curmudgeonly tone.

"Really?" he asks, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth, hands wringing inwards and outwards.

"Yes, god," you say, waving your hand. "Just… don't pull that shit again, alright? Or at least, give me a fair warning. 'Hey Vantas, I'm about to tackle you!' would've done wonders for my ribs," you say, fixing him with a glower.

His only response is laughter, and the sound rings out through the basically empty park that you two were sitting in.

"Gosh, we haven't talked in ages!" he says happily, pushing some naturally black hair out of his glasses, which were beaded with water from all the god-damned rain flying down to earth.

"Yeah," you agree. It actually has been a while since you last saw the derpy teenager, and - although you wouldn't admit it in a million years - you've missed the kid, and his infectious happiness.

"Which reminds me…" he glances around the area, pretending to look for something. "Where's a flight of friendship stairs when you need it?"

He then bursts out giggling, like a teenage girl checking out a hot guy.

"Could you be any weirder, Egbert?" you ask, covering up an imminent smile with disparaging words, shaking your head.

"Hey!" He places a hand on his chest, his voice full of fake hurt. "I'm not the weird one here, carrot-top," After the last two words he scoots quickly to the other side of the bench, laughing behind his hand as you try and fail to hit him on the arm.

"Look! I see no carrot, do you?" you say, jabbing a finger at the top of your head, where - unfortunately for you - your carefully placed parting has come undone, revealing a rather large patch of hair the colour of ginger, painfully obvious to be seen in the rest of your artificially darkened hair.

"It's threatening to take over your whole head," he chokes out in between his giggles.

"Gah!" 'Gah' being the best approximation of the angry, unintelligible noise you had just made, and you reach over and gently shove Egbert, who is in very real danger of wetting himself.

"Hey, don't freak out!" Raising his hands in defense, he scoots even further onto the opposite side of the soaked park bench.

Those two words, 'freak out', trigger something in your head, and you stand up as fast as possible without risking falling flat on your ass - that is, not very fast at all.

"I gotta go," you say and, without giving Egbert enough time to make another stupid comment, you jog off into the rain that is slowly lightening, drops that had been previously drumming tattoos into the pavement now only gently splashing against the concrete and playgrounds.

If you'd taken the time to look back, you would have seen John's face fall.

"

The door bursts open, pushed by your hand, and when your gaze is drawn to the scene inside, time slows down to a pace suitable for a geriatric snail.

The room is dim, and only the light from outside - dimmed by the countless clouds covering the natural light of the stars - provides enough for you to see.

Your name is **KARKAT VANTAS**, and your friend's **SHIT** has well and truly **FLIPPED**.

* * *

**A.N: **New chapter out soon! And thanks for reading 3


	6. Cue the freakouts

**A.N: **Double update to apologize for the wait! Enjoy :3

* * *

Your name is **SOLLUX CAPTOR**, and **IT'S** **HAPPENING** **AGAIN**.

"

The world around you has blurred and distorted, like a painting dipped into water before it had dried. Everything is dark, and the only light you can see is from the white of the clouds outside that seem like they've been put on fast-forward.

A creak from the door announces a new visitor, and your head whips around faster than your thoughts can go.

There's Karkat, like magic, standing there in the doorway with a panicked expression covering his face and a halo of light from the hall surrounding him.

For some reason, you've never been angrier at him.

Maybe it's because you want to believe that it's Karkat who is making you mad, not this… thing… in your head. Something real, rather than something you can't control no matter how many pills you take to swallow it up, no matter how many silent sessions of therapy that feel more like serving jail time.

So, fingers grabbing through the air in an almost drunken haze, you take the nearest solid object to you - a chair, as it were - and hurl it at Karkat with all your might. Your arms are slow and heavy, as though you're trying to fight through water, and the throw falls pitifully short, heavy wooden legs dragging across the thin rug with an ear-splitting shriek.

"Sollux," Karkat starts, his voice the only normal thing in the whole room. He takes a step into the dim, raising his hands.

"Sollux, calm down."

You try to reply, but the only thing you can manage to do is make a small sound like a cry.

Legs turning weak beneath you, slowly crashing down to the floor sideways, your head meets the tough floorboards and a sticky blackness steals away your thoughts and your consciousness.

"

"Hey." A different voice greets you when you wake, slightly deeper and more calm than Karkat's from earlier.

You try to sit up, but a cool hand on your forehead forces you softly back down to your prone position on - now that you have a chance to realize it - the bed.

It's Strider who's sitting next to you, his shades slightly askew on his face and the corner of his mouth turned up, but instead of the condescending smirk he donned so often, this expression was tinged with… sympathy? Worry?

Your brain hurt way too much to really try and question the thoughts going on behind the dark lenses, so you simply followed the best course of action that occurred to you.

Which was to groan pathetically and roll over like you had a bitch of a hangover. Well, you did have a headache to rival one.

"I'm not gonna ask if you're alright," he said from the other side of the bed, now that you weren't facing him. "'Cause it seems like an incredibly stupid thing to ask."

Gracing the kid with a nod, you close your eyes again, trying to regain that sweet feeling of sleep; or, rather, unconsciousness. To-may-toe, to-mah-toe. Either would be acceptable at this point.

But, as sunlight does whenever you're trying to get a last few minutes of sleep, chose that moment to shine directly onto your pillow, and no matter which way you tossed and turned or how tightly you screwed your eyes shut, you would have a piercingly bright light shining directly onto your brain like a torch.

"Who turned the fucking sun on?" you mumble, scraping around blindly with one hand for a pillow.

"Ah, it speaks," Dave said from behind you, seemingly still in position beside your bed. Now, he's started to get more sarcastic with you.

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" you snap, his derisive tones grating on your brain. Really, doesn't he have anything better to do than piss everyone off with his stupid 'ironic' comments?

You turn back around and fix him with the best scowl you can muster over the circumstances.

Dave raises both one eyebrow and his hands in a defensive way. "Trust me, Captor. If I had a choice, I probably wouldn't be glued to your ass. But that douche over there," he paused to jerk a thumb towards the sleeping form of Karkat, situated on his bed across the room. "promised me that he'd rip off my balls and wear them as a festive hat if I even moved one centimetre. His words, not mine," he added in a way of apology for the graphic wording, pulling some blonde hair out from it's trapped position behind his shades.

"I wouldn't doubt it," you say, pulling yourself up to rest on one elbow, and Dave doesn't stop you. "I've been on the receiving end of plenty of rants like that. Still got the bruises," you joke, faking a wince.

Dave almost springs out of his seat, but when he realizes you had been joking, he tries to cover it over as a small shift and a glasses adjust.

A smirk quickly dances across your face, and you lie back down with a heavy creak of protest from the bed.

On the other end of the room, a matching creak meets the sound of your own as Karkat, the douche himself, shoots up, snapping his gaze over to your now-smirking figure.

"Holy shit," he says, rubbing the sleeping daze out of his eyes and coming up with an astonished expression, and he seems to cross the room before you have time to blink twice.

"You're alright." And, even though Strider is sitting there and watching almost impassively, and even though you're fully alert and able to hear him, Karkat pulls you into a hug, leaning his head onto your shoulder, shoulders heaving with the deep breaths he's taking to try and not start crying. Karkat was always a bit of a crybaby when he was younger, and even though he tries to hide it, the trait has carried on even to today. He just hides it better. And, being his best friend, it always fell to you to stand there and just let him cry. Of course, there was Gamzee, but crying on the shoulder of a slightly erratic juggalo boy wouldn't really result in much help beyond a "what's going on, bro?". Both you and Karkat learned that little fact very early on.

You pat your friend's back awkwardly, shooting Dave a 'what-are-you-gonna-do' look, to which he silently replies with a shrug.

"Geez, KK," you mutter into his ear, mostly covered by disheveled black hair that's tickling your face kind of annoyingly. "Don't get your panties in a bunch."

"I'm - not," he said, with pauses between each word as though measuring out his voice was a struggle.

When he lets go and steps back, a small (possibly unintentional) cough from Dave catches his attention, and he glares down at the blonde boy sitting on the swivel chair below him as though he's to blame for this ordeal.

"Problem, Vantas?" Strider asks, staring back up, cool as Karkat was mad.

A small sound, almost an animalistic kind of growl, bubbles up in Karkat's throat, and he goes to raise a fist up.

"KK," you say warningly, shooting him a reprimanding glare. He - thankfully - steps down, although not without his fair share of muttered curses and (so he thought) discreet glares in Dave's direction. You really didn't want any strife to break out in the midst of your dorm room, especially with your headache only just starting to admit defeat.

"So," Dave says with a small clap, standing up from his post at your bedside. "What's for breakfast? I'm fucking starving."

"Nothing for you, asshat," Karkat said over his shoulder as he made his way to the kitchenette you three boys shared and rarely used for anything, aside from Karkat - the elected chef of the dorm.

Sharing a small smirk (and a laugh on your part), you and Dave settle back in to wait for the smell of honey pancakes to flood out the room, Karkat continuing a steady stream of insults that neither of you care to listen to.

"

Your name is **SOLLUX** **CAPTOR**, and **HONEY** **PANCAKES** are your **FAVOURITE**.


	7. Paying attention is for losers

**A.N: **New character this chapter! Read and find out :D

* * *

Your name is **DAVE** **STRIDER**, and your **ROOM**-**MATE** can **COOK** **LIKE** **NOBODY'S** **BUSINESS**.

"

"Damn, Vantas," you say between somewhat frenetic mouthfuls of the still steaming-hot pancakes that just keep coming. "These aren't that bad." It is hard to keep up appearances when your stomach has been basically gnawing at it's own lining for a few hours now thanks to hunger, and you've been presented with the fucking ambrosia of foods that Karkat somehow created out of the random ingredients littering the cupboards.

He's sitting there, leaning back in his chair, a slight sheen of sweat covering his forehead thanks to the stuffy closed-off kitchen. A small grin is playing across his lips, but his eyes keep darting towards Sollux, who's stuffing his face even faster than you are. Vantas, when he's not being an insufferable prick, is a good bro to Captor, that much you can tell. You observe everyone and everything, even though you're hidden behind your shades. It makes it easier, really.

"Thankth, KK. Thith tasthes really good," Sollux manages between mouthfuls that are moving so fast they're almost blurred like bullets, the food still in his mouth affecting his speech. Bits of pancake had also settled onto the cheap plastic covering saving the table from permanent stain-age thanks to yours and the other boys' efforts.

Karkat raises his arm to protect his face from the barrage of food projectiles, screwing up his face in disgust. "You can thank me properly by refraining from speaking when there's a danger of you flooding out the room with bits of half-digested pancake," he said dryly, pointedly glancing down at the now rather disgusting tabletop.

"Yeah, yeah," Sollux simpered, waving his arm casually and swallowing. "You know you love it."

"What I love is not having to clean the contents of your fucking lower intestine from the table," he shot back, ripping a paper towel from a nearby roll and wiping the surface clean.

Dave snorted into _his _dish, unable to stop the reaction before it leaked out from behind his mask, and Karkat looked up from his mopping duties. "Anything you've got to say, Strider?" he asks, his voice changing from casual and sarcastic to heavy and dripping with undue venom, aimed straight for you, naturally.

"Nothing at all," you say airily, finishing off your plate and pushing it away with a satisfied sigh.

"Keep your apron strings untangled, KK," Sollux said, and behind Karkat (who was fuming so much you were surprised his ears didn't start steaming) you and he shared a secret smirk. If it wasn't so lame, you might have even air high-fived.

Karkat collected the plates, clattering them together unnecessarily and muttering darkly under his breath.

"Hey, Captor. Don't we have history or something like that today?" you ask, remembering your classes for once in a blue moon.

"Oh, yeah." Sollux stands up from his seat, stretching his arms straight up. You can hear the muscles popping loudly in his back, and Karkat's head pokes around the doorway, expression holding fleeting hints of paranoia.

"He's good, Vantas," you say, and - with a sneer in your direction - he goes back into the kitchen.

"Come on, Th-Strider," he says, that occasional lisp cropping up once more on the last word, and you, in a rare show of sensitivity, choose to ignore it instead of presenting a mocking remark in his direction. Mostly because Karkat would probably jump you from behind if you did, but it's also because it really seems to affect the kid. You just saw him punch himself hard in the arm, after all.

"Later, Vantas." you call over your shoulder, and saunter out of the room, computer-bag in hand and Sollux bringing up the rear.

"

You two are sitting in class, the extraneous size of the place drowning out the quiet words of the lecturer standing below the small crop of students. The unfortunate professor in question was speaking in a shy tone, and even though he knew no-one was paying attention, he kept steamrolling on through his slide-show. The man had tenacity, you would give him that.

If you were paying enough attention to actually give a shit.

Because your scrutiny was drawn towards a different place - namely, the argument quickly brewing between Captor and some blonde kid with a purple streak in the front of his poofed-up hair, and glasses with thick rims that screamed 'hipster' partially covering light blue, watery eyes. And a weird accent that you couldn't place. Irish? Scottish? You didn't know the difference between them enough to distinguish.

The two had been arguing for a while now, and it was obviously about some girl that Eridan knew. He probably has some pathetic crush on her, you think with a smirk. The malevolent thoughts aren't really due, but he's managing to piss Sollux off pretty badly, and that's something you haven't seen - except for that freakout earlier, but you're not going to mention that to anyone anytime soon.

"Just shut up, Ampora," Sollux said, his expression serious and the normally playful sneer he wore had given way to something a lot meaner.

"I will not just 'shut up', ya tool. You hurt her feelings," the blonde kid said, pushing non-existent stray hairs away from his forehead.

"I had a perfectly good reason, dipshit. Plus, don't you think it hurt me too?" Sollux hissed back quietly, as the professor turned his baleful eyes towards the two boys. Ampora, or whatever his name was, seemed to be oblivious to the teacher's somewhat watchful gaze, continuing at his regular, somewhat obnoxious volume.

"Yeah, well, that's no excuse! Your general asshattery ruined her year! She was cryin every fuckin night thanks to you," he said, eyes narrowing, a fist covered with tacky-looking rings tightening on the edge of the desk he was seated at.

Sollux's eyes darkened, and he stared straight at Ampora, his voice low and, even though it was quiet, dangerous. "You don't understand. There isn't any possible way that you," and with that 'you', he stood up from his desk, and it would have toppled over with a huge **bang **had it not been dead-bolted to the floor. Sollux's finger was pointed straight at Eridan's face, which had drained of what little colour it had had earlier.

"Could even _begin _to understand."

Ampora waved Sollux's comments away with a jewel-encrusted hand and a sardonic smirk, and Dave could see Sollux's shoulders coiling back and his hands clenching and flexing.

The teacher wisely chose that moment to end the class, and Ampora - mixed in with the small throng of other students - sauntered out of the hall, leaving you and Sollux behind.

You went up to Sollux, and placed a single hand on his shoulder.

"Don't let that tool get to you," you said in the most comforting but indifferent voice you could muster.

"I won't let him get to me," Sollux muttered, gaze fixed on the door. "I'll be getting to him."

And with that, he swept out of the classroom, storming down the hallway after the idiot who had decided it was a good idea to piss Sollux Captor off.

You sigh irritatedly. Somehow, you've turned into the babysitter.

Pushing open the door, you go down the hallway at a walk-run sort of speed, following after your dorm-mate who you suddenly feel so responsible for.

"

Your name is **DAVE** **STRIDER**, and you're going on a **TOOL** **HUNT**.


	8. Tool Hunting 101

**A.N: **Hooray for mediocre fight scenes! And, since I've forgotten to mention it insofar:

_I do not own Homestuck in any way, shape or form. That honor goes to Andrew Hussie._

So there. Don't kill me, copyright people *hides behind Equius*

And, as always, enjoy!

* * *

Your name is **ERIDAN AMPORA**, and you think you **TOOK IT A BIT TOO FAR**.

"

Ha, who are you kidding really? You should have taken it way further, preferably with your fists instead of just your words, well-thought out and intelligent though they were.

The people in the corridors part way to let you through, the murmurs and whispers that you've learned to (mostly) tune out following you like a stalker that never gave up.

It's not your fault that others don't understand why you look the way you do. You use your hair to express yourself, and your clothing as well. No-one can pull off a pair of striped skinny jeans as well as you do. The glasses perched jauntily on your nose are really just a bonus feature. You don't need to wear glasses in all actuality, having outgrown your eye problem many a year ago. But, you've grown so accommodated to having thick frames perched on the bridge of your nose that you now wear them as a fashion statement.

People still talk, eyes following you when they think you can't see, but that's natural. It's the human prerogative.

That's what your counsellor told you, anyhow.

There's quick footsteps ringing out through the corridors behind you, but again you're used to that, tossing your hair out of your eyes in the most disdainful manner you can muster. The students here are at a plebeian level to say the least.

The odd thing is, you could swear that the steps were coming closer as you went.

_No, _you scold yourself mentally. You might have even slapped yourself discreetly on the face had you not been sure that the plentiful rings adorning your fingers would do some serious damage to your jaw. More surgery really isn't what you need.

Someone taps you lightly on the shoulder, and you turn around, your best 'don't fuck with me' expression dead set on your face. "What do ya want?" you go to say, but you're cut off mid-'ya' as someone else's fist connects with your jaw with a painful crunch that bounces through your mind as you go stumbling backwards, hand out to find the nearest hard surface to put your weight on.

Scrabbling around, you find a bench and rest on that, looking up to see who your assailant is.

Of fuckin' course. Sollux Captor. Just the man you _didn't _want to see.

Some blonde douche wearing huge aviator-style shades comes up behind Sollux and places a hand on his shoulder, the other shoved firmly into his jeans pocket.

"Dude," he says quietly, authority ringing through his tone. "Don't. He's not worth your efforts."

Sollux violently shrugs his hand off, muttering something to the new kid that you don't quite catch, and he replies in the same low voice.

"When you two are done havin' your fuckin' mothers club over there," you start, still smarting from the blow to your cheek, throbs of pain seeming to pass straight through to your brain.

Curious students are starting to gather around the scene, some of them classmates from the previous lecture who had been expecting this to happen sooner or later. There's more whispers rippling through the crowd, and you swear you even see some money being exchanged from hand to hand.

"So they're expectin' a show?"you mutter, more for the dramatic effect than for any other reason. You finally stand properly without support, wiping non-existent blood from your cheek like how they do in the movies. "Well, they're gonna get one."

When you looked back at that split-second decision later on, you would realize that it was one of the stupidest things you'd done in your life to date. And you'd once worn a pink plaid shirt with white jeans into a high school.

Jumping up from the floor, you run towards the slowly retreating form of Sollux, launching from the ground at the last possible moment, right fist coiled back as far as your joints would allow. It collided with the lowest point of his neck, because even with your somewhat impressive leap, Sollux was still a lot taller than you, and nothing was really going to change that.

Even so, there was a satisfying red, raised mark that was left (thanks to your tacky jewelry), and Sollux blundered forwards clumsily, his blonde comrade-in-arms catching him by the arm before he face-planted onto the pavement.

Sollux threw off his friend's arm and wheeled on the spot to face you, his expression a mix of utter fury and pain. He tried to cock his head threateningly, but that only resulted in a heavy and rather awkward-looking wince.

So, there you stood, a sanguine smirk on your lips and a hand resting on your protruding hip.

And that's when he tackled you with the fury of an incensed bull in the matador's ring, winding you instantly, and you spat out with a undignified expression that you would try to repress later when you were reflecting upon the experience.

It's faint, but you swear you can hear the blonde kid muttering something like "Karkat's going to murder me."

You fall to the ground, one of your hands finding it's way onto Sollux's face, pressing him away from you, and the other tangled with his as you tried to push him off.

A few moments - admittedly uncomfortable - struggling ensued, and through a mix of luck and obvious non-skill on _someone's _part (*coughcoughSOLLUXcough*), you manage to get the boy off of you, and he is sent rolling across the ground, gasping as his head bounces across uneven bumps and dips.

You slide backwards as well, standing up, which was a pretty stupid mistake on your part considering Sollux really hadn't rolled as far as you would have hoped.

You feel hands grabbing around your ankles and before you even have time to register what's happened, you're the one down on the ground with a bitch of a headache and Sollux is standing over you with a smirk on his face that's pissing you off like never before.

Spitting out something solid that was blocking your voice, you say, "You're gonna regret doin' that."

"Watch me," Sollux says, aiming a kick right at your legs now that you're stuck on the ground like an ungainly sausage.

You quickly get up while he's drawing his foot back, sliding to get behind him before he has any time to react and twisting his arm, silently thanking all of your old self-defence teachers from high-school years past.

_Except for Carlie. Old cow. _you think mentally, watching Sollux trying to wriggle out of your firm grip, a pained expression flying across his face before he has time to stop it.

"Eridan!" you hear an airy voice yell, and looking up from your victim, you see someone running towards the still-growing circle of people surrounding the fight.

Brown hair the texture of cotton balls is flying behind the girl, water dripping from the ends and flying out over the pavement behind her, leaving a Hansel-and-Gretel-esque trail winding around behind her. There's a pair of hot pink swimming goggles still hanging about her neck, and her expression is nigh on furious.

"H-hey, Fef," you say somewhat weakly, cowering in the face of your friend's anger.

She reaches the circle, pushing through the throng of people as politely as she can until she reaches the front.

The only thing you can offer in reply to her disappointed frown is a pathetic little wave.

"

Your name is **ERIDAN AMPORA**, and you are **SO FUCKED**.


	9. Did you even see me

**A.N: **Apologies if Fef sounds like a cold-hearted bitch! D: And, apologies again for the shortness. Next chapter will make up for it, I promise (hehe).

* * *

Your name is **FEFERI** **PEIXES**, and, boy, are you **ANGRY**.

"

You place two hands on your hips, and lean forward, putting on the best angry face that you can muster, trying to ignore Sollux's surprised and slightly… amused? … expression.

It's a little difficult, really, but you can manage.

"You, mister," you say, jabbing a digit straight into his face, and he goes cross-eyed just trying to keep his eyes on it. "Are in some serious glub-damned trouble." There you go with the fish puns again. It's a habit you picked up from one of the kids that you work closely with; he's obsessed with the sea and aquatic life.

There's some blonde kid standing next to Sollux who's trying to hide small sniggers behind his hand. Admittedly, it must look kind of funny from his point of view. A short, airy-looking girl basically serving Eridan's ass right in front of everyone, like a pro. Still, you shoot him the evil eye and he shuts up, stepping back slightly and raising his hands, almost comical in his exaggeration.

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes heavenward, you spin back to face the tremulous form of Eridan, who's actually physically shaking, sweat balling up on his forehead - although that might just be residual from the fighting.

He stands up, a head taller than you are but so much less intimidating.

"Fef, now's not the time…" he says in a low, embarrassed voice, obviously wanting to avoid a public friendship smackdown. He takes your wrist gently with his own damp hand and tries to guide you away, but you shake his hand off.

"Now's the perfect time." There's a _lot _of stuff you've been wanting to say to Eridan Ampora, and since he's just been bashing up your ex-boyfriend (what do you mean I still have feelings for him? Nope, no way, uh-uh. No feelings over here), it seems the right opportunity.

"But w-what's there to talk about?" he starts, a ripple of fear going through his voice that you try - and fail - not to notice.

"Everything!" you cry, throwing your hands up in the air, your hands just reaching above his head. "Glubbing hell, haven't you noticed anything? Or have you been too reeled into your own little world that you can't see the fish for the coral?" Okay, maybe the fish puns were a little extreme, but "glubbing" is a perfectly normal substitute for a swear! Especially since profanity around the kids really isn't recommended if you want to come back when the day is done.

"I… I-" he starts, but you put your hand up to silence him, nearly jabbing him in the nose.

"You're such a drama queen! Any time anyone even looks at you the wrong way, you're onto them like a nest of stinging flies! And who has to pick up the pieces? Me!" You're full on ranting now, a runaway train of words that's going too fast to try and stop by now.

"And of course, now that you've been bashing someone up, I have to come here and stop you two from probably sending each other to hospital! Maybe I should be the one who's punching you in the face! Because, you know what?" You pause here to take in a heaving, but admittedly shaky, breath, eyes filling up with water no matter how hard you swallow. "Sometimes I feel like it! And recently it's been a lot of the glubbing time!"

You might be teetering on the verge of tears, but then again, so is Eridan. But you're too far in to stop now.

"Eridan," you say to get his attention, as he's started to find his flashy blue-and-purple sneakers more interesting than your face.

Maybe he can redeem himself, and you won't have to do what you've been dreading to do.

His hands clench and unclench into fists, once each hand. "He's a dickhead, Fef. Why can't ya see that?" he mutters, daring you to hear but hoping you won't.

Before you even realize what you've done, your hand has connected with his cheek in a hard slap that leaves a stinging feeling in your palm, and a bright pink handprint on Eridan's face.

You look at him, and he looks at you, both shocked at your actions.

"He's been better to me than you have," you say quietly, a single tear finding it's way down your cheek. "And someday, you'll see that."

With that, you turn on your heel and stalk away as fast as you can without running, searching for somewhere, _anywhere_, where you can cry and not be noticed or judged. Somewhere where no-one will recognize you, where there's no expectations to be held to you or broken.

You hear the broken sound escaping from Eridan's lips, whether you wanted to or not.

And it breaks your heart.

You disappear around the corner, resisting the urge of giving him the satisfaction of that final glance.

You might have seen Eridan crying like a child.

You might have seen Sollux looking on, shocked.

You might have been noticed.

"

Your name is **FEFERI PEIXES**, and right now you're **COMPLETELY ALONE**.


	10. Barhopping and awkward mancrushes

**A.N: **Extra-long chapter with some fun bits at the end! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it~! So, without further ado, enjoy yourself!

* * *

Your name is **SOLLUX CAPTOR**, and you just saw someone's **HEART** being **SHATTERED**.

"

That someone is Eridan Ampora. Only two minutes ago, all you had wanted was to punch his face right in, and possibly break his stupid glasses along with it.

Now, you find yourself watching in awkward silence as the teenager falls to his knees, tears pooling in his eyes, and a broken noise like a gasp issuing from his throat.

The crowd - before so eager to be watching first a fight, then a breakup of sorts - quickly disperses, with money being covertly exchanged and mutters rippling around as quickly as the breeze.

You watch Feferi as she disappears around a corner, wondering how in the hell the kind girl found it in her to so cold-heartedly smash a boy's heart into tiny pieces. _Maybe she's wanted - no, needed, to do it for ages_, you think, glancing at Eridan quickly. _He does seem the type to grate on people's nerves_.

Right now though, instead of irritation, all he's managing to draw out of you is pity with his choking sobs.

Dave, who's been standing behind you this whole time like a good wingman, taps you on the shoulder, another hand on the back of his neck in a seemingly cool and collected fashion. His voice is a bit strained and awkward, though.

"What do we do about that?" he asks, jerking a thumb towards Ampora.

"Um," is the only response that comes to mind. Emotional matters have never really been your area of expertise, so to speak. Even back then.

Before your mind can wander off into that darkness-filled part of your memories, you draw it back, concentrating on the situation at hand.

Cautiously, you walk over to the kid, and squat down next to him, balancing precariously on the balls of your feet.

He hasn't tried to hit _your _face in yet, so you take that as a good sign and place a hand as gently on his shoulder as you can muster.

"Fuck off…." you hear him mumble, from his position on the floor. He raises his head to look you dead in the eye - his swollen and turning red, yours wide as dinner plates - and repeats himself. "Just… fuck off."

You nearly do, but some little voice in your head is telling you that (no matter how much you want to) leaving this kid behind really isn't the wisest of ideas.

"Nope," is your response, like two six-year-olds having a petty argument. Which is pretty much what you're doing, come to think of it. Just with more adult words.

"Get offa me!" he says a bit more loudly, and innocent students just passing by the scene stop and stare at you accusingly.

"Fuck me, Ampora." You stand up again and take a step back, but your hand has slid slightly down his arm and you manage to pull him up with you.

"No!" he cries out, fighting against your grip.

"For christ's sake, Ampora. Calm the fuck down. I'm just getting you some medical help," you say, and without waiting for an answer, you start walking back towards your apartment with him in tow in one hand, taking out your mobile with the other and dialing someone special.

"

"Shit," was the first thing that Karkat said when the unlikely trio burst into the apartment, sporting bruises and a very apparent slap mark.

"Did you call Gamzee?" was the second.

You nod, helping Eridan over to the couch and unceremoniously dumping him onto it, leaving him to his melodramatic groaning.

You're just as sore and sorry as he is, but you know when it's time to fall on a couch like a little girl and start crying and when it's time to 'suck it up, princess'.

Dave, who had been following behind you, was keeping to the corner, and Karkat was eyeballing him. Since Dave was the only one with no bruises, it really wasn't a good time for him to say much, and he sensed that. So, keeping any and all ironic comments to himself - for the moment - he sat on his bed and pulled out his new laptop, opening up Google.

"I'm gonna fuckin' be malformed," Eridan muttered, grabbing the nearest couch cushion (which, unfortunately for him, was vinyl and really not good for pitiful cuddling) and putting it over his face.

"Shut it, Ampora," Karkat snapped, who was sitting at his desk, but his chair was facing the door, as if he were expecting another visitor at any moment.

A faint mutter of "no, _you _shut it" was heard from Eridan but no-one paid him any mind as Gamzee walked in, his expression slightly more serious for once.

"Where's the motherfuckin' problem?" Gamzee asked, glancing around at YOUR hunched over pose and Eridan, who was lying on the couch as dramatically as a sculpture.

The smell of disinfectant and clean bandages was filling the room quickly as Gamzee methodically swabbed over Sollux's bruises and small grazes, his eyes searching yours for the cause but finding no answer.

"He'll be fine, 'bit sore, but that's all up and expected," Gamzee concluded with a nonchalant shrug, standing up and moving over to Eridan, who had been keeping up a constant stream of complaints since Sollux had been the first to be attended to.

When he caught sight of Gamzee's face, he completely flipped his shit.

"No. Oh fuck no. I ain't lettin' some random-ass clown boy tend to my fuckin' wounds. No way." He drew the pillow even tighter across his face, curling up in a position that resembled a baby sleeping.

"Come on, Ampora. Gamzee's actually a doctor-in-training," Karkat snapped from his spot at his desk. "No matter how much his fucked-up appearance says otherwise."

Letting the insult slide, Gamzee added on to Karkat's speech. "Yup. Just doing my first year of hands-on training. It's pretty intense, ya know?" He slowly spread his hands out in an arc for dramatic effect.

"Fine. Just don't screw up," Eridan allowed, sticking out a bruised cheek for Gamzee to inspect carefully.

Gamzee held Eridan's face gently with his large hands, and turned him from side to side, inspecting the marks adorning his skin.

He traced around the slap mark - still a bright pink against the papery-white of his complexion - and sighed quietly under his breath, obviously sensing that the pain of it went deeper than just a bruise.

Just as quickly as he'd stepped in, he stepped back out, swabbing his other cheek with brown-tinted disinfectant. "You'll be good too, motherfucker," he said, giving Eridan what he approximated to be a comforting smile.

"Thank fuckin' god." Eridan says with a small relieved sigh.

"Now can you get the hell out of our dorm?" Karkat asks, quavers of desperation entering his voice.

To everyone's surprise (including your own), it's you who speaks up in his defense.

"The least we can do is bring him back or something." You sneak a cautious look at Eridan, and his expression has fallen slightly, having changed from the haughty pout it had seemed to be frozen in earlier to a more empty look.

"Please don't let me be alone."

Those words are said so quietly, you can't even be sure that you had heard them, but even if you didn't want to, the real emotions in them hit you for a six.

Your mind is made up before you're even aware of the decision, and you stand up, slapping your thighs as you go for attention.

"Let's go get shit-faced."

"

Somehow, everyone manages to wrangle into the one car, thanks to the miracle of changeable seating. It's John's dad's car, as Dave managed to persuade his friend to go, even with Karkat's half-hearted protesting (mostly along the lines of "there's already enough derps in this idiot-brigade").

Karkat and Eridan are packed into the very back "row" of seats, squashed tighter than a tin of sardines. You and Gamzee are lounging lazily in the two middle seats, and Dave is reigning supreme in the driver's seat, shotgun taken up by a very enthusiastic John who's bouncing in his seat, glasses barely staying balanced on his nose.

You can hear the music blaring from almost two blocks away, even with the relaxed chatter going on in the background. It's the kind of electro-techno sound where the beats drum right into your skull, like a second heartbeat that you never knew you had.

The excitement catches on with everyone when Dave pulls up in a mysteriously good parking spot, just outside the doors.

The ever-changing colours of the lights are bleeding out onto the pavement from the gaps in the doorway, and - incredibly - there's no line to get in, so you all slip in quickly as a dream.

There's a defined line between the bar and the dance-floor, with couples of all persuasions chatting each other up with words at one and with moves at the other. There's a few bored-looking bartenders observing the scene, which must have gotten old after having seen the same thing night after night.

Gamzee lazily put up a hand to shoulder height, catching the attention of the small group before they broke off into the crowds. "I'll be DD, 'kay?" he said shortly, then he nodded once and made his way to a seat on the corner of the bar, ignoring any passing glances that were being sent his way.

John grabbed both Karkat and Dave's arms and started to pull them towards the strobe-lit area of the dance-floor, and with a goofy grin he begged them to dance, and, surprisingly (at least to you) they both oblige, letting Egbert lead them out of your sight.

It seems no-one can resist the kid's goofy grin, you think, turning to the only person left with you in your party of six. Eridan.

_Typical, _you think with a small eye roll heavenward.

He looks at you, then shrugs. "You want a drink, then?" he asks, more of a statement than a question.

"Fine. I'm not paying, though," you say with a small smirk, walking to a free spot in the bar.

Eridan shoves you lightly from behind, but unlike your earlier fighting it had more of a playful feel. "Dickhead," he says, although you can hear some laughter in his voice, and he seems in better spirits than he had been back at your house for those few fleeting moments.

"

"Theriouthly… you should stop with the drinks…" you say to Eridan, but the words aren't forming as well as you'd like. Probably because you're head is fuzzed over, keeping you from connecting any real thoughts. But, even if you've had more beers than you'd care to admit, it's nothing compared to what Eridan's slammed down in the two hours you've been there.

A veritable small army of shot glasses has amassed in front of the distraught teen, and everyone has since moved away from you two. He's slumped over the bar, trying to hold yet another glass up to his lips, but his hands are shaking so much that all of the alcohol inside has slopped out down his weird stripy pants.

You start to giggle, pointing at the fast-flowing wet spot forming on Eridan's trousers. "Ha… ha ha… you look like you pissed yourself…" Even though you're sounding like a total idiot, you can't stop laughing.

Eridan reaches over and tries to hit you on the arm, but falls pitifully short, his hand flailing languidly into empty air. "Shut up," he moans, one hand covering his eyes, trapped behind the lenses of his specs.

Sighing, you look away from the wasted teen and at the now almost-empty dance floor, where Karkat and John were stumbling around in time with the music.

Dave was casually observing in the corner, a small smirk gracing his features.

But when John put his hand rather _low _on Karkat waist, the smirk wavered.

And when he pulled the shorter boy close to him with that hand, their chests touching and hips swaying in time with both the melody filling the small area and each other, it completely disappeared.

Drunken smiles adorned both John and Karkat's faces as they continued to slowly grind, although admittedly KK's was a little shocked at the boyish teen's sudden forwardness.

_Dave's extremely pissed off, _noted that small part of your brain that was still functioning normally outside the haze of beer.

Which is why you weren't all that surprised when he stormed over to the bar and simply stuck out his hand for a drink, dropping a rather cash-loaded wallet onto the countertop as payment.

The bartender, with a sneaky look side to side, snatched the waller as though it were leprechaun gold that was about to disappear if he didn't steal it soon, and he brought out a whole bottle of vodka just for Dave to sample.

The blonde teen downed half of it in one go, and you widened your eyes at the sudden feat.

He then cast a furtive glance at the pair now dominating the dance floor, but they were too wrapped up in their inebriated little world to even notice Dave.

So, Dave made a sudden decision.

That decision entailed him walking calmly over to where you and Eridan were affixed to the bar, placing his hands on either side of the surface behind you, and leaning in to basically crush his lips to yours before you even had time to inhale.

His breath mixed with yours, scents of alcohol, emotion and honey pancakes mingling in that one touch, and when you opened your mouth to let out a gasp of surprise, he took that as an invitation to turn the simple kiss into a slightly more sloppy makeout.

Before you even realized what you were doing, one hand was on the back of his neck, curling into the light hair growing near the base of his skull, and the other holding his arm in place where it was so that he couldn't escape.

The feeling was fucking incredible.

But that moment was shattered when there was a soft 'whump' from next to you (or was it far away? Frankly, your brain was too scattered to properly tell) and a yell from John that went something like "Eridan!"

Because now Eridan was on the floor, out cold, shattered pieces of what had once been a shoot glass strewn around him. A few were seemingly stuck into the fine skin of his wrist, as there was a small pool of blood forming around his hand.

"Shit," was all you could mutter, as everyone closed in around the scene.

"

Your name is **SOLLUX CAPTOR**, and this is why you **DON'T** go to **BARS**.

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**A.N: **Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed the long-ness! I wonder if they should all be this long... Next time: Hospital cafeteria shenanigans and hangovers. Lots and lots of hangovers.


	11. How to take a hangover like a man

**A.N: **HOLY SHITE AN UPDATE. I'm so incredibly sorry for leaving you guys hanging (and at a sort of cliffhanger too!) but, if I'm honest, I lost my Lenses drive that had been inspiring me to write, even though I had this whole chapter's events planned out to some degree. Hopefully I'll start being more regular and frequent with my updates, so keep your eyes peeled!

* * *

Your name is **DAVE STRIDER**, and **YOUR HEAD **feels like **DEATH.**

"

Really the only adequate way to describe the pain flowing through your head. For about the thousandth time, you thank John mentally for the aviator shades that are conveniently covering over your bloodshot, sleepless eyes, and helping you pass off the grimace of a hangover as nothing more than a regular downturned smirk.

It seems to be working well, as John pokes you on the cheek from his plastic seat on your right. "How do you _do_ it?" he asks vaguely, voice throaty and quiet. He's clutching a plastic tree planter (the cumquat tree that used to occupy it was now filling the bin) to his chest like it was his last lifeline, and the smell of sick is emanating from it in waves. Karkat - who has the unfortunate position of sitting next to John - has threatened to physically boot John out of the hospital if he doesn't stop with his violent stomach attack. But, he refused to leave on the grounds of Eridan.

Speaking of Eridan…

Sollux keeps leaving and entering the room, with trays of food and a determined expression. Apparently he's appointed himself as Eridan's personal babysitter or some shit. You really don't want to think too hard about it, or anything… especially since your brain violently protests to anything remotely resembling a train of thought. Even one of those mini smart-cars of thought. It's a fucking gridlock in your mind. Honk all you want, motherfucker, you aren't getting through here within the next few hours.

Extended locomotor-related metaphors aside, you need to figure out just what the hell happened last night - no cliche intended.

Lots of drinking… and you mean a lot, even for you. Judging by the royal pain - only matched by the time you decided to gorge on Taco Bell then slam Jagerbombs with Gamzee and Karkat - you must've gone all out.

You remember watching from the side of the dancefloor, too cool to join in yet not uninterested enough to ignore. You remember John and Karkat, dancing side-by-side. Well, not so much 'side-by-side' as 'ass-to-crotch'.

You remember the flow of jealousy, white hot and burning your muscles, affixing you to your spot for a little before you regained enough mental processing to move the fuck away go go go before you punch Vantas' lights out.

Then… blackout. The only thing you can conjure up is a faint taste of honey pancakes, which is weird because they came before the bar, you think? Fuck this confusing memory shit.

Your almost trance-like reverie is shattered by Sollux clumping his grumpy ass back into the room, a grimace gracing his face. "They're saying Eridan won't be let out for another couple of hours yet."

Karkat pipes up from his somewhat awkward position at the edge of his seat and his head buried in his hands. "Let me guess. Ampora is whining his ass off melodramatically in the hospital bed."

"He pretended to stab himself with the butter knife to 'end his suffering'." Sollux completed, sitting on a plastic table instead of a chair (earning him a nasty glare from the cafeteria attendant).

Karkat shook his head mirthfully and John laughed weakly. "Jesus."

Then Karkat jumped up with a squeal to rival a two-year-old girl spotting a spider, cheeks ballooning for only the shortest second before he mustered enough space to speak. "Egbert! The next fucking time you squeeze out your innards into that jar I will pull out your engorged stomach and hold it as my trophy! I'll hang on a god-damned fucking wall like an oversized trout! Hell, I'll get Captor over there to wire it up and make it sing jaunty fucking sea shanties for me!"

At which point a pissed-looking nurse walks in and politely requests that your motley crew get the fuck out of her hospital. Your words, not hers.

"Club couldn't even handle us." you point out as you sit on the edge of a flower bed outside the entrance of the hospital. The nurse had followed you down the hallways, all the way to the exit, just to make sure you didn't double back. You swear that she's still standing in the lobby, just giving you all the stink eye.

Your comment earns a few sniggers from everyone, despite it's total lameness.

Then John looks around, his blue eyes quizzical. "Hey… where's Sollux?"

"Probably off kissing Ampora's boo-boos better," Karkat snorted. "Anyway, I don't want to risk heading back in only to get our asses royally served to us like a bunch of dudes in Breakfast-In-Bed Land."

"Or an island full of butlers," you point out.

He scowls in your direction, the veins standing out underneath his eyes. "Shut it, Strider, my analogy was better."

"You keep believing that."

Your name is **DAVE STRIDER**, and you totally aren't worried about **SOLLUX. NOPE, NOT AT ALL.**

* * *

**A.N: **As always, thanks for reading. You guys are inspiring. And I'm sorry about the shorter-than-usual length! I'll try to make the next chapter longer.


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